


Blood In The Water

by BitsofaStarGoneWrong



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, That doesn't come until way later in the story but I should probably include it, Trans Male Character, its gonna get gay folks, lets talk about representation baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitsofaStarGoneWrong/pseuds/BitsofaStarGoneWrong
Summary: Delsen Anderson did not like Montana. He knew that the second he stepped off the plane in Missoula that he had made a mistake. Even if he was a police officer, Montana had little to offer him by way of distractions. That’s why he should have seen this whole thing coming, something always had to give.





	1. Lamb For The Slaughter

Delsen Anderson did not like Montana. He knew that the second he stepped off the plane in Missoula that he had made a mistake. When he was picking where he wanted to be stationed, he thought it would be a good escape from everything. But he forgot how uncomfortable the empty of the countryside made him feel. Having grown up in cities and suburbs his whole life, the immense amount of space between buildings and people was daunting to say the least. Even if he was a police officer, Montana had little to offer him by way of distractions. That’s why he should have seen this whole thing coming, something always had to give.

The video came on rather suddenly for most of the world. But Delsen had nothing better to do in Montana than to browse youtube for hours on end. He liked those little gossip-y videos, especially those videos about “top five creepiest cults!! Must see this crazy footage!!” sort of videos. That’s how he found Mike and his team. They investigated a lot of people, solving cold cases or just getting justice for people who felt they hadn’t been given their due diligence. But then they were suddenly in Montana. Hope County, to be exact. Delsen had to pause the video to look at the little sign they showed when they entered Hope County. Yep. That sure as hell was the sign that was not a mile down the road from the station. 

But apparently, some Joseph Seed character was kidnapping people and doing some religious, cockamamy bullshit with them. That made Delsen’s stomach flip and had him slamming his laptop shut. He’d heard Whitehorse coming into the station a few times talking to Pratt and Hudson about some crazy religious people, but in all honesty, Delsen didn’t get out much. And he certainly didn’t go to any church, so why should he care? That’s what he’d thought, at least.

What worried Delsen wasn’t the uneven uploads, he knew it was going to be rough getting service in bumfuck nowhere Montana. What worried him was the unedited raw footage uploads. The footage included arguments between the crew, which Delsen was sure no one would want to put out. Wasn’t good for public reception, right? 

Then the final video came. Mike was scrambling around, whispering about how the Project at Edens Gate was real. There were gunshots, the footage was corrupted. Delsen’s jaw started to ache again that day with how tightly he began clenching his teeth together. It couldn’t be real. Shit like crazy religious cults only happened in movies and video games. But then Marshal Burke came stomping in, asking for backup and a helicopter. 

Delsen watched the video at least three times on the helicopter ride over. What made him so uneasy wasn’t the gunshots, or the flashes of religious imagery, but the terrified look on the face of a man who he thought was fake. When the fake jackasses of the world started to get scared, Delsen knew he should be worried.

“You won’t get any reception out here.” Whitehorse said with a sad smile. Delsen shook the phone anyway when the feed cut out, but was quickly distracted by the hundred foot tall statue of a man holding a bible. 

“Jesus.” The Marshal whispered into the microphone. Delsen had to look away and focused a glare on the flask in Staci’s hand. Staci shot him an equally intense glare before offering the flask to Joey. 

“We could always turn back, Marshal!” Whitehorse called over the intercom. Yeah, Delsen scoffed, pigs would fly before the hot-headed Marshal turned the copter around. Whitehorse sent in the call to Nancy, the desk receptionist that always followed him with a hot glare. When the copter touched down, Delsen was the last to step out, trying to steady his nerves.

The compound was kind of what he had been expecting. Women were on one side and men were on the other. The houses in the compound were clearly built by hand, and a fire was burning off to the side, lit up by a man with a fucking flamethrower. The path that was down the middle of the compound lead straight to a medium-sized church. But what came before the church was just a bit more intimidating. Standing along the path were groups of men, women and children, some holding weapons, others just watching. Delsen shrunk beneath their harsh glares and walked a bit quicker to try and keep up with the Sheriff. 

The church that they stood outside of wasn’t exactly impressive. Delsen had seen better when he used to perform at cathedrals and the like. But something about this church made him feel so much worse. Maybe it was the choir singing ominously within. Or, Delsen thought to himself, its more likely that you’re afraid of being kidnapped by a cult and never being heard from again. Delsen bit his lip as the Marshal barked orders at the small guard. He practically jumped out of his skin when a hand came down on his shoulder.

“Stay close to me, Rookie.” And just as they were about to enter the church, Hudson said the first nice thing to him in six months, her worried eyes scanning the space behind him. 

“You’ll be fine.” He didn’t know if she was saying it to reassure him or herself, but he nodded and followed the Sheriff closely. 

Delsen wasn’t really surprised by the spectacle that was Joseph Seed, he had even expected it. Although, the Marshal said there was no way the Project had heard about their coming, Delsen felt it in his bones that this night was not going to go to plan. A small group of heavily armed men were right by the door, and at first Delsen thought that there weren’t any pews, just Joseph Seed talking to this small group. The poor rookie was practically blinded by the light coming from the symbol at the end of the chapel. Blinking the light out of his eyes, he realized suddenly how fucking out numbered they were if a fight were to break out. There were at least five rows of pews on each side and at least five people to a pew. Not to mention the fucking group gathered outside the church. Joseph Seed stood, half naked, with his arms outstretched and his voice growing louder as the Marshal and Whitehorse argued about whether or not to interrupt.

And when he saw the other Seed siblings, the one’s he had seen in the video online, slowly creeping into view to stand on the podium, the feeling of dread slowly began to build. What worried Delsen most was the large man in an army jacket behind Joseph Seed. Not that the other two didn’t make hm nervous, the perfectly poised shorter sibling and the delicate girl with a harsh stare, but the bigger man would most certainly be a problem if things turned sour. Especially since the man made direct eye contact with Delsen and slowly shook his head. 

“God will not let you take me.” Joseph Seed all but whispered as he held up his hands to the deputy. Delsen only then looked at the man before him. And that was when Delsen really froze up. He was suddenly six years old again, with Father McFadden holding out his hands to Delsen. His hands started shaking, the cuffs rattling quietly in his hands. He felt like he was burning up, so many eyes were on him, they all knew he was weak. 

“Take your friends, your guns, and just walk away.” Joseph Seed said, holding eye contact with Delsen. The rookie wanted nothing more than to hide away from what was clearly going to be a fucked up situation. If he was being honest, he wanted to follow the preachers words; Delsen wanted to turn right back around and leave that compound, never to return. But then Whitehorse growled beside him.

“Come on, Rook.” Delsen flinched and practically threw the cuffs on Joseph’s wrists. He tensed up, ready for someone to spring into action, but the other three Seed siblings behind him just watched. But the bigger man looked curious now as Rook put moved behind Joseph to start walking him out of that God forsaken church. Delsen was about to start walking away with him when a husky voice sounded from the podium,

“You have to read him his rights.” The shorter, sharper dressed man said. The Marshal tossed his head back in a cruel, dramatic laugh, a wry smile pulling across his face,

“Fine, you want your rights? Go ahead.” The Marshal nodded at Rook. Before Delsen could even start to panic, Whitehorse stepped in with the rights. Then he knew that everyone was staring at him, he caught each one of the siblings eyes, even Joseph cocked his head to look at him. So instead, he kept his eyes fixed on Joseph Seed’s hands, which he found comfort in suddenly. On close inspection, they weren’t like Father McFadden’s, which had been smooth and perfectly manicured. No, Joseph Seed had well worn, rough hands, calloused from recent work. Joseph Seed may have been a prophet, a religious man, but he wasn’t weak. Clean hands, dirty heart, in Delsens eyes. 

But then Delsen was moving forward, one hand placed lightly on Joseph Seed’s shoulder. Delsen tried not to shake under the weight of six eyes on his back. He couldn’t help but grip the man’s shoulder when he heard one of them shifting behind him, terrified he was about to get a knife in his back. But as he stepped outside of the church, things really started to go to shit. Delsen knew taking Joseph Seed wasn’t going to be easy, he knew it before he even got to that stupid fucking compound. But he wanted to believe that the Marshal was right. 

Delsen led The Father through the compound, ignoring the shouts and protests of the cult members. Delsen was good at blocking out noise by now, but even he couldn’t ignore the cultists scrambling to get into the helicopter; even as the helicopter took off, hands scrambled and clawed at him, and even with his eyes squeezed shut he could still feel the hands grabbing desperately first for Joseph Seed, then to just hold on to the helicopter. Delsen’s eyes flew open when he heard the frantic beeping sounds of the copter. Pratt grabbed at the steering wheel, desperately trying to gain control. The helicopter was spinning, Delsen was pinned to his seat, Joseph Seed was singing, Hudson was screaming, the ground was close, then nothing. 

Delsen slowly came to. He was really hoping he was back in his bed in New York City. He prayed for just a second, that he had just twisted out of his tiny twin sized bed and was hanging upside in a world before a crazy cult, this job in fucking Montana, before graduation. He wasn’t though. He was trapped. Delsen opened his eyes to find himself in Hell. The helicopter was on fire, somewhere, turning the world around him a light red. Pratt was being dragged from the helicopter, and Whitehorse was already gone. His vision was blurred at first, but the headphones with Nancy’s piercing cries for someone to answer quickly came into focus. Delsen weakly tried to reach for the radio hanging in front of him, but suddenly Joseph Seed’s face was right in front of him. Delsen immediately began to panic. He was trapped in bum fuck nowhere and this half naked priest was telling him no one was coming for him, he was going to fucking die there-!

“Calm yourself my child.” Delsen tore his frantic gaze from away from the belt trapping him in place. Joseph Seed had stopped singing Amazing Grace and was now just quietly watching Delsen. The only sound that passed between them was the crackling of the fire and Delsens heavy breathing. The Father reached out and touched Delsens cheek, to which Delsen whimpered, shrinking back. Joseph Seed’s brow creased, his narrow, concerned eyes locked on Delsen’s wide, fearful ones. Delsen could almost feel Joseph Seed sucking his past trauma’s out of him, but he couldn’t look away. “Why do you fear us so, child? What demons haunt you?” Joseph Seed whispered. Delsen wanted to spit in the man’s face, scream at him, tell him how this preaching prick’s religion had betrayed him. But Joseph Seed didn’t deserve to hear Delsen’s voice. So he stared, wide eyed at Joseph until the man backed out of the helicopter. 

The Marshal was awake by then, staring at Delsen. Then he whispered, “We gotta get the fuck outta here.” He was able to yank at his belt and scramble away, leaving Delsen half frozen in fear. But Delsen quickly grabbed at his belt again and gave a few hard tugs. He ignored Joseph Seed caterwauling at the moon like a cat in heat, about some reaping, and bolted for the woods.


	2. The Mute

Delsen just wanted to be a cop. And when Dutch tells him that he’s the only one who isn’t captured or holed up, he realized he was going to have to be more than just a cop. Dutch basically flung him out of his bunker. It left Delsen feeling dizzy, but none too surprised. Abrupt and blunt seemed to be Dutchs way. Delsen surveyed his weapon situation as Dutch explained how he should free his island. One pistol, a knife, and a pipe he had snatched on his way out was all he had, not necessarily an arsenal, but it was enough to make an attempt to free the island.

Looking down at himself, Delsen realized he had another problem. It wasn’t like Delsen usually paid much attention to his clothes, especially as a cop he usually only had one uniform. But Delsen really didn’t much like the look of himself at the moment, he unfortunately looked like a middle-aged man in his red flannel and black cargo pants. Delsen scoffed quietly at Dutch’s sense of fashion, but tried not to pay too much attention to his clothes anymore.

As the junior deputy picked his way through the grass southwards, he realized his other gripe with Montana. He hated nature. Sure, he recycled and saved energy, and sure he liked living on the planet Earth. But bugs? Grass? Tree’s covered in sap? Not for Delsen Anderson. As a cop, he didn’t really have to put up with it, he went from his hotel to the station and back again. Didn’t go fishing or hunting or nothing. 

Staring down at the small pistol in his hand, Delsen turned the gun slowly to look it over then tucked it in its hostler on his hip, pulling out the knife he carried instead. If someone looked close enough, they’d be able to see a name engraved on the side, but nobody was around to look.

Delsen crouched quietly in the brush, watching silently as two Edens Gate members attacked a civilian. He was tempted to just walk away, it wasn’t his business really. His business was getting his coworkers and getting the hell out of Hope County. But the wet sound of bare fist on bloody flesh made Delsen rethink. He’d been under a fist or tw in his life, but he’d always had a fair shot at hitting back, whether he took this shot or not was not the point. It wasn’t exactly a fair shot though with the poor guy tied up, now was it? Delsen took out his knife as he approached the first Peggie. Truth be told, he had never killed anyone before, as much as he’d wanted to. So, as he slunk towards the Peggie his palms began to sweat and for a moment he feared he might actually drop his knife. The Peggie started to turn on her heal in her patrol of the area, thankfully giving Delsen little choice but to act. 

The Junior Depty left to his feet, just as she began to spot him, and he drove the knife into her neck. He watched as she collapsed, blood pooling out of her neck to collect in the dirt beneath her. Her eyes bulged, her hands desperately clutching at her own feeble neck to stop the blood coming out of her in spurts. A horrible sound came from her throat as she tried to gasp for air, but all that came out were pathetic wheezes. Delsen still held the knife in his hands, wondering in amazement how easy it had been to sink the knife into her skin. He thought it would be more difficult, but it had been so easy to just slide in and out. But Delsen only had a moment to think this before her friend was on Delsen. The other Peggie had his gun raised and aimed at Delsens head. Delsen didn’t need much more prompting, dodging with a soft yelp as a bullet flew past his head. Scrambling in fear, Delsen grabbed at his own gun with shaking hands and pulled the trigger with a flick of his finger. The body hit the ground with a solid thump. 

Delsen stood still for a moment, pausing after the small skirmish. All and all, it took less than two minutes to take two lives, but it felt like an eternity to their taker.

“Hey! Help me out!” The captive man whispered urgently. Delsen blinked and moved to undo the ties binding the man's wrists. Delsens hands and knife were covered in blood and it almost made him sick to think about. 

In the years to come, it would be that first woman's face that Delsen would see. He would take so many more lives, in more brutal ways and lives he knew much better than hers. But she never left his mind. Perhaps, Delsen thought afterward, because it was his first kill that it mattered so much. After all, Jacob Seed would remark, a first kill was an intimate matter, made even more intimate by the close proximity needed for a knife kill. 

Whatever the case, Delsen didn’t get a moment of peace until he found himself perched atop some radio tower Dutch wanted him to climb.

Delsen knew three things. Sitting with his legs dangling over the platform of the radio tower, Delsen peered into the brush. The expanse of pines covered most of Hope County's hills and valleys, making the mountains look like green waves. What Delsen knew though, versus what he didn’t know, was a considerably small list. He knew he wasn’t a hero. He shook his head, his curls flopping in his face. He knew he didn’t want to be a hero. He knew the names of the Seeds: Jacob, Joseph, John, and Faith, although whether she was considered a True Sibling remained up in the air. And, in theory, he knew where his fellow officers were. Hudson was with John, Jacob had Pratt, and Faith, the lucky woman, had both Burke and Whitehorse, or so Delsen was led to believe. 

Delsen Anderson knew three things, upon which was balanced a loaded and stick question, which Delsen held precariously between his hands. He wasn’t quite ready for this question to stand out on its own just yet, seeing as he didn’t have an answer for it. And he liked to have answers to his questions before he posed them. So, he thought to himself, as he stared out at the rolling green waves: Who should be rescued first? Pulling a piece of jerky from his bag, Delsen chewed at the tough meat thoughtfully. 

Pratt was the first crossed off the list. As much as he missed Staci, Delsen knew that Staci could hold his own against Jacob Seed. Then there was Joey. Her eyes begged for help on that stupid commercial that John Seed put out. But as much as he wanted to help her, Faith Seed had two people under her wing. Two leaders as a matter of face. So, shoving the rest of the jerky into his mouth, Delsen jumped on to the zipline. By the time he reached the ground, he knew he was going to Faith first. 

 

Delsen rolled down the window of the car with a soft sigh. The car he’d jacked had air conditioning that was for shit, and probably guzzled more gas than it was worth. Reaching over to the passenger side, Delsen snagged the map of the county and put it up by the steering wheel. Hope County was big with a capital B. He decided he was gonna blow through the whole county, just ride past anyone on the side of the road to try to get to the Hope County Jail.

So there he was. Three days into this hell hole and he got his first chance to relax for a second. He flew through the winding roads, taping his free foot to the oldie radio station that Hope County had going. Something about just being alone and driving through the gorgeous countryside made Delsen feel the good kind of small. The kind he felt while looking over New York City from a tall building, or staring up at the countless rows of pines that stretched up over the Montana mountains. He wasn’t about to admit it to anyone, but Montana was starting to grow on him.

Delsen huffed when realized this and tried to fiddle with the radio. Hope County had about two radio stations. The oldies and the cult radio station, but Del figured he would try to flip through the other stations again. Pausing for just a moment, the radio settled on the weird reinterpreted cult songs, but Delsen quickly switched it back to the oldies. As much as Oh John got stuck in his head, he was more partial to the Georgia Satellites. Delsen sat his elbow on the window ledge of the car, his fist resting by his chin as he bobbed his head to the beat of Keep Your Hands To Yourself.

A memory flooded back to him of bouncing around Father McFadden’s living room with Percy, wiggling his tiny 8-year-old body to the steady guitar and weird “no huge-ee no kiss-ee” part. Percy always used to let his head flop back comically and it left Delsen in stiches. 

Delsen ran his fingers over his lips with a small smile. The next song sent shivers down his spine though. The swift guitar and then the crooning of The Platters filled the car. Delsen’s quickly changed the radio station to the cult songs, and the reinterpreted versions of those songs. Pulling the car up to the side of the road, Delsen rubbed his temples. That song always gave him a headache, reminded him of home. He quickly grabbed the map on the passenger seat to try to figure out where he was again. A staticky call came through the radio,

“Hell yeah, its Sharky here. We’re settin’ up a surprise barbeque for these brain dead cultists at the trailer park.” A grin suddenly split over Delsen’s face. After finding the trailer park on his map, Delsen traced a careful line up a dirt path. Looking up, he realized the dirt path was just to his left. He threw the car into gear and headed for the uphill dirt road. 

“That! Was! Fun!” Sharky Bowshaw said an hour later as he bounced around like a rabbit on crack among the smoldering remains of Faith’s angels. Bowshaw looked him up and down proudly, “I wish all law enforcement was like you. You don’t even say nothin’ about the nonsense comin’ outta my mouth!” Delsen smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Well, call me next time you wanna fight some angels!” Delsen hesitated when Sharky said this, Dutch’s voice already coming over his walkie-talkie about how stupid Sharky Bowshaw was. The look on Bowshaw’s face almost made him want to cry. It was the look of a man who had been told he was stupid his whole life. And boy, if Delsen wasn’t a sucker for stupid men.

**Why don’t you come to help me free the jail?** Delsen said. Sharky stared at him, his eyes wide. 

“Oh shit dude, can you like not hear?” Sharky said, his bouncing stopping for half a second. Delsen shook his head and pulled out his phone, typing out his message. 

**No. I just don’t talk.** The text read. Sharky peered up at Delsen and asked outright.

Why?” Delsen faltered for a minute. People didn’t usually ask why they usually made their own assumptions and went about their day. 

**Don’t know. Just don’t feel like talking**. Sharky nodded slowly then shrugged.

“Alright, that’s fair. Can you teach me some of your hand signal fuckery so I can at least understand what you’re sayin’ in combat?” Delsen smiled and nodded, motioning back to the car. Delsen spent the whole night in the truck teaching Sharky easy signs that would help them communicate better 

With Sharky’s help, freeing the prison wasn’t too hard, and Delsen even got to use a fucking rocket launcher. When the launcher hit one of the cars coming in and set off a chain reaction, he and Sharky whooped and high fived. It was probably the greatest moment of his life up until then. And it felt damn good. 

The next greatest moment was the hug he got from Sheriff Whitehorse when the prison was finally liberated. The Sheriff was surprised to find Delsen there, apparently, everyone expected him to be at Fall’s End. And the good moment was ruined by probably the worst news.

“I gotta stay here and help defend the jail, son, you gotta be the one to get us some ground out there,” Whitehorse said when giving his deputy instructions on how to take out the cult in the Henbane. “You gotta be the face of this resistance. Besides,” Whitehorse smiled, “I’m not as spry as I once was.” Delsen put on a good face, for the time being, collected his missions and headed out of the main courtyard.

Delsen clenched his fists, trying to control the anger bubbling up in his chest as he stomped towards the Jail exit. He didn’t want to be the face of some god damn resistance. That shit was for movies. Delsen had _wanted_ to walk away from Joseph Seed the moment he saw him, and he should have because now he was the face of some god damn cult resisting group. 

“You good amigo?” Sharky pipped up from the corner, resting against a wall. Delsen grunted. “You know what you need? Some good ol’ oregano.” Delsen blinked and looked up at Sharky when he said this. Sharky held up a small bag of “oregano” and winked. “Wanna blaze it, my friend?”

Delsen stared wide-eyed at the arsonist before him. First of all, no one had offered Delsen drugs since college. Second, no one had offered police officer Delsen drugs ever, not even Hudson or Pratt. And at that moment, he realized he knew four things now. Added to his list: Delsen was going to be best friends with Sharky Bowshaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I decided to name each chapter after a song, whoops. Anyway, this was is after The Mute by Radical Face


	3. Wolf

For some God forsaken reason, Joseph Seed had to have brussel sprouts at every dinner that the siblings had. Which was every week at six o’clock on Friday night. And unfortunately, Jacob Seed hated brussel sprouts. When he had been young, he could stomach them when they were fried together with bacon. But now, he couldn’t even stomach that.

  
So, there he sat, poking his last brussel sprout around on his plate. The fancy china, to be specific, the kind John brought out just for Joseph and just for Friday nights. Sometimes it annoyed Jacob how hard his little brother tried to please Joseph, but family was family, he always reminded himself. If John wanted to work himself into the ground trying to be Joseph’s little shining star, that was fine by him.

“Have you found that last junior deputy yet, Faith?” Joseph asked. Faith scrunched up her nose.

“Not yet, but the deputy is not exactly subtle. We’ll pick him up.” She said. John sneered at her over his glass of wine,

“Sooner rather than later would be preferable, Faith.” Faith opened her mouth to argue, but Joseph cleared his throat. A not so in subtle hint from Joseph to stop arguing or else. Both Faith and John fell silent.

“I suggest once we have the deputy captured, we transfer him to another location. So he might be cleansed of his sins.” Joseph said. Jacob’s younger brother went quiet, rubbing his bearded chin. “The question is what to do after. The deputy must be paired with one of that is suitable to contain his sins.” The three siblings all tensed. This was the moment all would be revealed; who Joseph trusted the most would have their name spoken in just a few seconds.

“As much as I want to allow Faith to tamp down the wild nature that the deputy seems to have, I do not believe it will be the right fit. I’m sorry, my dearest Faith.” Joseph took Faith’s hand as he finished speaking. Faith smiled and bowed her head. Jacob knew though, could see from the slump of her shoulders that she was disappointed.

“John, you will extract a confession from the deputy. I suspect his greatest sin, but we will see what you can find. And Jacob,” Joseph turned to his oldest brother, ignoring the youngest’s devastated face, “You will take the deputy once he has confessed. I believe we need to tap into that…Wrath the deputy carries around.” Joseph stared Jacob down. Jacob gripped his fork in his hand, looked back down at his brussel sprouts.

“Right.” Jacob murmured. Joseph smiled and turned back to his own plate of brussel sprouts.

“You may go, Jacob, if you are finished. I am sure you have much to do to prepare for the deputy.” Jacob stood. He pushed his chair away. He walked to the door. He left. The door slammed shut behind him.

Jacob wasn’t exactly mad at Joseph. As he stomped his way to his car, he knew he was overreacting a bit. He should be happy that he was given the responsibility of taming the deputy. But sometimes he couldn’t stand how much Joe played with John. At his core, John just wanted to make Joseph happy, and Joey knew that. Jacob knew Joey took advantage of John’s need to please him. But this was a new level of cruel, Jacob thought, John had voiced his true opinion for once; he was interested in the deputy, clearly wanted to have him after he confessed. And of course, all Joey wanted to do was dangle the toy in front of the dogs face, get him to do the trick, then yank away the reward. That wasn’t the way to train an animal, that was the way to get hurt. And one day, John was going to lash out and bite the hand that fed him. If things kept going the way they were, it would be soon too.

Jacob sat in his truck, rolling his thoughts around in his head silently. He needed to stop thinking about his family and think more about the situation at hand. Eli. The god damn militia. Pratt. The Deputy. A knock on the window. Faith.  
Jacob rolled down the window. He grunted. Faith smiled. Her smile twinkled like that fairy from that Disney movie Miller said his sister liked. Tinkerbell.

“I packed up some leftovers for you.” She handed him a small Tupperware box, packed with venison and potatoes and corn from that nights dinner. But-

“No brussel sprouts.” She whispered with a wink. Her hands folded behind her back and she leaned forward with a mischievous tilt of her head. Definitely Tinkerbell. She looked behind her, Joseph and John talked quietly on the porch. “I know you hate brussel sprouts. Me too.” Another fairy whisper. Jacob studied the girl. She wasn’t as thin as the last one, although she certainly had been all skin and shivering bones when she first came to the Project. But now she definitely had some meat on her hips. He didn’t exactly know why, but it made him feel better to know that she was eating well. The others usually lost worry weight if they were planning to bail. This Faith had Strength.

“Thank you.” Jacob grumbled, taking the box. Faith smiled, her smirk blinding Jacob a moment.

“You know, that’s the third time you’ve ever said anything to me.” She said. She giggled. Jacob couldn’t help but smile, looking down at his lap. He knew this Faith was much wilder. She caught the most people in the bliss, the angels came back the most gone, but the hardest to defeat. This Faith and her angels were most likely to get up when beaten down. So he told the truth.

“Joseph doesn’t really let you out from under his wing enough for us to talk.” Jacob finished with a whisper. Faith went still, quiet. Her gaze was somewhat blank. Jacob started to pull back. He’d overstepped his boundaries. Then suddenly Faith’s hand shout out to grip Jacob’s scarred arm. Her nails dug into his skin. There were a lot of dead nerve endings all over his body, but Faith seemed to find exactly the spot in his arm that still had feeling.

"Joseph Seed doesn’t control me.” Faith whispered as she dug her nails into his skin. Blood pooled under her grip. Then she let go, pushing away from the car with a tight smile. “Can’t say the same for you and John though.” Faith said, slipping back to the porch. Jacob was left holding his Tupperware container. He waved to his brothers. He turned on his car. He tore off down the road, dust kicking up behind his car.

Jacob took his time going back to the Veterans Center. He drove up through Holland Valley, right through Fall’s End. He ignored the bullets aimed at his car. He drove up through the Henbane. He ignored the Angels that stood at the side of the road and watched him drive by.

Hope County had been good for him. When Joseph had found him he had been not in a good way. He didn’t like thinking too much about how Joey and John had found him. Jacob rested his head against the window as he drove through the winding roads. Having a purpose again made him feel good. Full stop. Jacob felt at the height of his strength again. Having a routine, discipline, and someone to have command over was good. He didn’t know how he felt about all of this prophecy stuff. He loved Joey, but he also knew that people went crazy. People heard voices. And if Joey was hearing voices, it wasn’t good.

Joey had always been a thoughtful pensive child. It made up for the hard pregnancy his mother had. Jacob had been young, but even he remembered how his mother had been laid up with the flu in her last months of pregnancy. Joey never cried when he was born either. Which Jacob liked. Jacob hated John those first few months. He’d had colic and drove old man Seed up the wall.

Then there was the Deputy. He was a tiny thing really. Not that he would ever say that out loud to John, considering the two were about the same height. The boy hadn’t spoken a word the whole time he had been in church. Hadn’t even read Joey his rights, which had been interesting. And the poor pup had hung his head like a dog that had been hit across the snout for bad behavior when Sheriff Whitehorse had spoken for him. Did the kid not talk? Or was he scared? Mostly likely not scared, he’d handled himself well since then. With strength. The pup was disobedient if anything, but that could always be fixed.

Jacob wrinkled his nose slightly. _Pup_? When had he started using that term? He’d never thought of anyone that way, let alone a boy he barely knew. Jacob was still thinking about the Deputy when something dashed out in front of his car. The old soldier slammed on the breaks, jerking forward with a grunt. The road was pitch black for a moment then a hand came up on the hood of his car. Jacob stared blankly for a moment. A head popped up. Dark brown eyes stared back at him, a wild face with mud, cuts, and blood all over it. The same face he had seen in the church.

The Deputy stood slowly, peering at the shadowy figure in the car. Jacob realized the deputy probably couldn’t see him and chuckled to himself. Poor thing, probably thought he was about to get saved. Jacob chuckled to himself at the wild-eyed Deputy. Then he frowned. The Deputy tore his gaze from the windshield and towards the forest beyond. The Deputy held out his hands as if trying to fight off something, backing away with a sort of wild panic. Jacob noticed two things in that moment. First, that the Deputy had blood pooling from an open wound on his arm. Second, a howl that came from nearby.

Jacob didn’t know why he did what he did. He should have let the judge bite the Deputy. It would have made for an easier catch. But within moments, a dead judge was at Jacob’s feet. Jacob was silent as he stared at the still form. He then turned on his heel, his gun resting in his hand. The Deputy was on the ground, flat on his ass with the same wide-eyed look as before.

“Be more careful, next time.” Was all Jacob could say. The Deputy’s chest heaved up and down as he stared up at Jacob. The Deputy’s head slowly moved up and down. Jacob didn’t know what to do next. Luckily, he didn’t have to do much more deciding when he heard the sounds of feet stomping through the forest. Jacob frowned as he realized his mistake. Judges always had handlers.

“Under the car.” Jacob hissed. The Deputy tensed, looking between the Judge, the forest, and Jacob. Jacob snapped his fingers, glaring at the Deputy as he motioned under the car. “Now.” The Deputy didn’t hesitate now. He scurried under the car, laying on his stomach as he pushed further under the vehicle. Tw round brown eyes stared up at Jacob with utter trust. Jacob felt something crack inside of him at the sight of them.

Then the chosen broke through the tree line, and Jacob tore his eyes from the Deputy. He kept his eyes trained on the Judge, slipping his gun into his thigh holster. All was silent as Jacob put his hands on his hips.

“This your boy?” Jacob grumbled out. The two chosen stared at him. The one closer to the forest nodded,

“Yessir.” The answer came out as a whimper. Jacob nodded. Using the toe of his boot, Jacob lifted the Judge's head then let it flop back down with a sickening thud.

“What a waste.” Jacob murmured. He remembered this Judge too. Winter, Jacob had called him. Such a beautiful, strong animal. Jacob tore his gaze from the judge.

“You should be keeping a closer eye on your animal.” Jacob ground out. He was going to leave the scolding at that too, didn’t want to sound too much like a drill sergeant. Accidents happened after all, and Winter had only been doing his duty. But they all had to make sacrifices.

“This one had a mind of his own! Wouldn’t listen to calls, or punishment, I mean I tried everything!” Mark, Mark was definitely his name, stopped when Jacob held up his hand for silence. The soldier stepped over the judge to close in on Mark. Mark had survived the trials but had a tendency to talk back. Jacob needed to put an end to that.

“You are a man, are you not Mark?” Jacob asked. Mark nodded. “And this wolf is a beast.” Mark nodded again. “You have the brain between the two of you. A wolf wants to eat, shit, sleep, and fuck.” Mark realized he was being scolded and hung his head like a child. _Well_ , Jacob thought. _If he is going to act like a child, I might as well treat him like one_. Jacob put a hand on his chin, scratching it.

“Now, tell me, Mark,” Jacob continued, “How is that you, a man, can’t control a simple beast.” Mark didn’t answer and Jacob snorted. Of course, he wouldn’t answer.

“I swear, between the two of you, I’m starting to believe the wolf was smarter than the two of you put together.” Jacob snarled. The air hung heavy between the three of them Jacob walked over to the judge again.

“You know, Mark. I think you should have been the one who was shot through the head.” Jacob glanced over his shoulder, “If you can’t learn to control a simple beast, you just might.” He let that sink in, before he waved his hand. Mark and his friend scurried into the forest. Jacob picked up the judges body and put it in the back of his truck. Maybe they should start offering a training session for handlers and judges. Could possibly cut their losses. After all, there wasn’t an endless supply of wolves around the mountains. When Jacob turned around, he was met with the nervous stare of the Deputy. He’d nearly forgotten about the pup.

Jacob frowned. There it was again.  _Pup_. Jacob ran a dirty hand through his hair. Why did he keep saying that? The Deputy shakily lifted his hands.

 **Why?** Jacob stared at the Deputys hands. **  
******

**Why?** More foreceful now, angry. **  
**

“Why what?” Jacob huffed, stalking towards the Deputy. The pup took a few shaky steps back. Jacob rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips again.

 **Why you help me?** The Deputy asked. Jacob smiled. He didn’t know. So he said so. **  
**

“Don’t know. Guess, I expected more of a chase out of you.” Jacob finished quietly. The Deputy stared at him. Jacob narrowed his eyes, searching the Deputy’s chest for a name tag.

“What’s your name, pup?” Jacob asked after finding none. The Deputy blinked. Jacob would never know what the deputy was thinking, but by the silent red tinge of his cheek, Jacob could guess how the deputy felt about the little nickname Jacob had come up with.The Deputy looked at his chest quickly, as if to point to a familiar name tag, then started. The Deputy stared at Jacob for a long while, then slowly pulled out a phone. Jacob raised his eyebrows as the Deputy showed him a bright screen with big letters on it.

“Delsen Anderson.” Jacob read aloud. Jacob look to the Deputy as he put away his phone, then said, “You outta get out of the Henbane, Anderson. ‘fore Faith gets her hooks in you.” The Deputy studied the soldier then shrugged. Jacob put up his hands,

“I’m just tryin’ to warn you. Outta give Holland Valley a try before you get too Blissed out.” The Deputy smiled weakly as Jacob opened the driver side door. “What?” Jacob asked.

 **You **.**** The deputy pointed at Jacob. Jacob rolled his eyes and got into the car, waving for Anderson to get out of the road. Jacob started up the car when suddenly the Deputy was clinging to the window ledge. Jacob raised an eyebrow at the suddenly frantic way the Deputy was typing on his phone.

 **How is Pratt?** Jacob read the text then look the young Deputy. **  
**

“He’s fine. Strong body. Not so strong mind. But he’s alive if that’s what you mean.” Jacob answered. Anderson looked a little shaken. For some reason, Jacob kept going.

“Can’t say the same for your Hudson. You better hurry on up to Holland Valley before John gets frustrated.” Jacob whispered. He didn’t know he whispered. But that crack from earlier, he felt like he was breaking it open just a bit more. ** **  
****

******Thank you.****** Anderson said. Jacob nodded. Then he just drove off. Jacob watched Delsen disappear in the distance. Then turned his thoughts elsewhere. He should probably get Peaches to shave him tomorrow morning. Would really throw the man over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of Jacob's POV to break up the Delsen bits. 
> 
> Wolf by First Aid Kit


End file.
